


Twinge of Pain and Hope

by ghxstof_you



Series: bubble hockey shenanigans [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2019-2020 NHL Season, 2020 NHL Playoffs Bubble, 2020 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Roope is sad and injured, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Soft Hockey Boys, and Miro is like uh no stop it, bubble hockey, but then not, not a lot of angst though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghxstof_you/pseuds/ghxstof_you
Summary: Roope injures himself at the beginning of the Stanley Cup Finals series, Miro decides to check in on him.
Relationships: Miro Heiskanen/Roope Hintz
Series: bubble hockey shenanigans [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931383
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Twinge of Pain and Hope

**Author's Note:**

> the miro/roope tag is mainly if not all porn so I decided I was going to be self-indulgent and post some boys being soft post-injury. This is set during/after game 1 of the stanley cup finals (which the stars won!! Eeeeek im so happy) but yeah! this was not beta'd so im sorry, and also I haven't written a story in a hot minute so this is kinda garbage but yeah enjoy <3

Roope felt the adrenaline rushing through his veins. 

It was the first game of the finals, and the boys were playing good, _really_ good. Shots were being made, hits were being thrown and blocks were stopping said shots from Tampa’s side. It was addicting, seeing his team having such a high start to a series that meant so much. This is the finals, so you either go big or you go home empty handed.

He felt as though he was on autopilot. Like the rush he got from hockey set him into playing purely on instinct. The feeling of speeding down the ice, lungs burning from lack of oxygen as he tunneled in on only the puck. It felt as though a small flame was burning brightly, walking the line of exploding into an uncontrolled fire with a getaway or solid save.

But it all hit him too fast, too soon. 

He was close to the stars net, playing defense since Tampa had possession. His eyes were glued to the puck, being passed from player to player before he watched it be ripped down the iec, barreling right towards him. His body acted before his mind could protest, and Roope dropped his left leg to the ground.

The pain ripped through his leg at lightning speed, sending shock waves through his body before he ultimately crippled to the ground. He turned his head to peer down the ice, watching the puck slide back onto the stick of a Tampa player. Roope didn’t want to get up, hoping that maybe one of his teammates will charge and grab the puck from the player-- stopping the play. But he waited, seconds feeling like minutes, and he never heard a whistle.

Whatever bit of adrenaline he had left, he used to push himself back onto his two feet. He wanted to scream, an uneasy heat radiating from his calf that felt close to a searing pain. His first step he took he felt like his knees were about to give, the pain being unbearing. Roope took to hoping on one foot for the rest of the shift, or until he could be pushed to the bench by a team mate. 

He was eternally grateful when Dobby gloved the puck, stopping the play. The whistle was music to his ears, his body sore and groaning against every movement he tried to make. Roope reached out for Seggy, who helped him over to the bench. He was quick to grab a hold of the wooden walls of the rink as he pulled himself off the ice, taking the help the trainers offered. As he slowly forced himself down the tunnel towards the locker room, he felt the sudden urge to make a double take. Someone was staring at him, he could just _feel_ it.

He turned his head to catch a quick glimpse of Miro, standing by the tunnel with a frown etched into his face. When their eyes met, Miro’s frown quickly melted into a small, sympathetic smile. He was quick to turn around though, heading back into position before the play started again. 

As Roope continued down the tunnel, he couldn’t tell if the warmth in his face was from the game, pain or the smile that was tossed his way. 

The rest of the game went by in a blur. For Roope, it was spent in the locker room, being looked over by the trainers and ultimately told he’d spend the rest of his night icing his leg in his hotel room. He tuned out the trainers who were giving him the all-to-familiar run down for treating his kind of injury. He’s been through this rodeo before.. _Remember RICE… Rest, Ice, blah blah blah…_ His plan was to play the next game, even if it meant bitching to the trainers to let him play. His throbbing leg would say otherwise, but he’d refuse to admit it.

By the time he had limped his way up to the 5th floor, stopped by the ice machine near his hotel room and got himself situated on his bed, the game had already ended. 4-1 the television read, and although Roope should have been happy-- he was annoyed.

He should have _been_ there. He should have been on the ice, skating down the rink with his teammates and shooting pucks at the net that was hitting the seventy mile mark. He should have been passing shots to Kiwi or Guri and jumping into the pile of dallas jerseys when one of the two scored an unbelievable goal once again for the thousandth time in the playoffs. He missed the hugs, the high fives, the head pats, all of it for a save.

Roope knew he was being hard on himself. He knew that the kind of saves he made were crucial, that anything could happen in the finals. He knew that he was overreacting, that he would be returning come either next game or the one after and that he _would be fine_. But his mind kept unraveling and he just sank further and further into his ocean of self pity to the point he felt like he could drown.

But the knock on the door was a distraction at most, and whoever was there was quick to let themselves in without even waiting for Roope to say something.

And there he was. Roope’s life buoy. The soft-smiled, green eyed Finnish boy he was looking for. He tried to repress the smile that grew on his face, but he was only _so_ successful. 

“How are you feeling?” Miro asked, walking towards Roope but only coming so far. He stopped a couple feet from his bed, something small twinging in Roope’s chest.

“I’ll be ready to go for Monday” Miro gave him an unconvinced look, glancing down at the large purple bruise that blossomed from the middle of Roope’s calf. He nodded, turning away from Roope’s glance as he teetered from one foot to the other. He looked unsure, almost a bit anxious. Roope knew Miro was trying to hide it but he became too good at reading the stone-like faces Miro was known to have. Miro took a chance, and sat by the end of the bed.

“I was worried, y’know?” Miro started, his body facing the television and away from Roope’s gaze. “You were down on the ice for a bit, I didn’t know if you were going to get up for a second there.”

“And look where that got me.”

Miro was quick to glance back at Roope, his eyebrows knitted together in a look of disbelief. It was Roope’s turn to avoid Miro’s gaze, his hands resting on his thighs as he angrily picked at the small cotton balls that sat on his sweatpants.

“Roope.” Miro called, his gaze unmoving. “Roope… Roope stop ignoring me.”

Miro was quick to leave his spot and make his way to Roope’s side. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaving plenty of room between the two and yet Roope felt claustrophobic with how close his friend had suddenly gotten.

“Why, Roope? That was an amazing save that helped the team win the game tonight. Obviously you not being injured is prefered, but there’s no reason you should beat yourself up over it.” 

Roope knew Miro was right. He knew that the kind of saves he pulled tonight can be game changers, that’s why his teammates and him did it so often, but his addiction to the game wasn’t fulfilled. He doesn’t know if it’s because of lack of game time, or because he felt like he was letting someone down, but it just didn’t settle with him right.

“But I’m no use sitting in bed, am I?” Roope whispered, his hands playing with the drawstring of his pants.

“ _Lopeta_.” Miro scowled. It was silent for a moment, the two boys bathing in the tension before Miro was the first to break it. He sighed, clasping a firm hand on Roope’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. Roope leaned into it, his eyes closing as he felt his body radiate with a new kind of warmth. Miro let his hand linger, before it fell slowly down the side of Roope’s arm and to his hand. He slowly traced his hand down Roope’s wrist, and into the palm of his hand.

Roope felt like he was whiplashed. His eyes were wide and staring in curiosity. His breath coming out in small, but fast gasps. His skin felt like it was on fire, like each delicate touch Miro administered felt like fire ants were sending shots of flaming warmth down his arm. His heart was drumming in his ears, anxiety building in his chest and yet he couldn’t keep his eyes off his teammate.

Miro traced the small lines in Roope’s hand before he silently took Roope’s hand in his. They sat like that for a while, hand in hand, breaths escaping their lungs in soft but fast gasps. This territory they crossed into was uncharted, unknown. Roope couldn’t help but question _what now?_ But he had finally felt at ease. Like whatever needed to click, finally did. Because although this territory the two boys were in was unknown, Roope wouldn’t deny the fact that he had thought long and hard of exploring it. 

Miro was the first to break apart, giving Roope’s hand a soft squeeze before he left the side of the bed he was seated on. Roope couldn’t help but shiver from the newfound coldness that came with Miro leaving. He stared down at his hand, almost as if Miro had branded it with his own and Roope couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, please.” Miro whispered, barely loud enough for Roope to hear. When their eyes met, Miro’s earthy orbs were soft and gleaming of something Roope couldn’t quite put his finger on. Roope was quick to smile back.

“ _Hyvää yötä, Miro_.” Roope hummed.

“Goodnight, Roope.”

The brunette made his way out of his friend’s hotel room, closing the door lightly behind him. And as Roope sat in the dark, basking in the faded light of the television screen, he couldn't hide the smile that grew on his face. He fell asleep that night with the unforgotten twinge of pain in his leg, but his warm hand close to his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> translations:  
> "Lopeta" means stop/stop it in finnish.  
> "Hyvää yötä" means Goodnight in finnish.
> 
> \----
> 
> follow me on tumblr @multi-fandom-wby :))


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